Throwing off the Shackles of Oppression
by M83
Summary: The 'firsties' have had it. They've always been picked on, and for year after year they've had to take it. But now, they have chosen a leader. His name: Colin Creevy. "It's what Harry Potter would have done!" (year2 humor-fic)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form (or color)! And ahh... the Harry Potter Fan Club idea actually belongs to Ron (2nd book, p.99, hardcover edition)! Ye gads, I play on the stupidity of first years quite a lot, but first years are fun...!

**Ye ol' Story de Comideus Extremeus**

'As predicted by many a-witches and wizards, Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To the delight of some and displeasure of others, he was sorted into the noble house of Gryffindor. The wizarding community thought he would have a peaceful first year in his training to become a wizard of great powers. How very wrong they were.

In that first year, Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, was attacked by a mountain troll, became the seeker – the youngest in a century! – To his houses' Quidditch team, and fought up against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the second time in his young life, and won!

What most of the wizarding community were not aware of were the trials and tribulations young Potter struggled with internally. He never knew his parents, having died when he was just a babe by the hand of the evil wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He had to fight off the adoration of his fans while proving to his fellow students that he was not full of himself.

All in all though, Harry Potter's first year went smashingly, with the addition of two new friends to his life and another battle with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named under his belt. So he returned to his Aunt and Uncle's home, to spend the summer in a forced isolation, wallowing in well-earned self-pity. But because of a daring rescue staged by his friend Ronald Weasley, that horrible rendition of summer was cut short. Instead, Harry spent the rest of the holidays doing the things boys of his age should do.

Second year was going to be easy, the wizarding community thought; the boy had already gone through enough for two lifetimes. Once again, they were proven wrong. On the very first day of the new school year, Harry happened to miss the Hogwarts Express and out the window went any chance of a good year. Riding in his friend Ron's flying automobile, they followed the train all the way to Hogwarts, where they were severely punished when found.

Between detention and Gilderoy Lockhart, time somehow did manage to pass and Halloween came. As the previous had gone bad for Harry, this one wasn't any different. He was invited to a 'deathday' party for Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick. There, he got to view a wide variety of ghosts from Moaning Myrtle to the Bloody Baron. Feeling out of place at this party, as they were the only one's who had working organs, Harry and his friends left early.

It was by pure chance the youth stumbled upon the Petrified figure of Mrs. Norris. And Harry, being Harry, was blamed for this tragedy by local crazed janitor Argus Filch. This accusation was dismissed by Headmaster Dumbledore, but a shadow of doubt was laid around Harry.

After a few days filled with second glances and doubtful eyes, Harry had his first Quidditch of the season. The Gryffindor team won, of course, but Harry ended up sporting a broken arm due to a foul Bludger. Mis-healed by an incompetent DADA teacher, Harry was sent to the hospital wing to recover. While he obliviously journeyed through Dreamland, his persona was being discussed by fans.

In the common room of Gryffindor Tower , a group of First Years sat huddled together, voices in hushed whispers, less someone were to overhear. Together, they formed the official Harry Potter Fan Club. In their numbers sat figures such as Colin Creevey --who we now know as the youngest Minister of Magic ever appointed-- was the President of the Club, and Ginny Weasley --the ill-fated lover of Draco Malfoy and betrayer of the Uprising, sat in as secretary. Ginny was in one of lounge chairs, clutching a book tightly to her chest. Colin on the other hand, was up in front of the circle of First Years and was only now closing down his ten minute tirade.

"...and so, Harry obviously couldn't have done It, he couldn't have frozen Mrs. Norris or whatever that curse was." said the mousy-haired boy. He looked back at his audience with a face so somber, that it would have shamed Percy Weasly. His camera, which usually hung on a strap around his neck, was predictably there. "Who do you all think did it? Who is this 'Heir'?"

A few hands shot up immediately. "Ahh... you, Lisa." said a short-winded Colin, calling on a blonde girl sitting near Ginny.

The girl scrunched up her face, as if concentrating really hard, "It was obviously a Slytherin. Nobody else would be that mean to a cat, even if it _was _Mrs. Norris!" Lisa got nods of approval from everyone in the circle except one. Unwatched, Ginny Weasley shrunk back into her chair, clutching the book even tighter.

"Or course, everyone knows that. We have to figure out which one it is!" said a determined Colin, smacking a tight fist into his palm.

"I think it is that Draco Malfoy!" squeaked Ginny suddenly. "He is always mean to Harry! Like at Flourish and Blotts, and they nearly got into a fight and..." Ginny trailed off as she realized she had the circle's full and unwanted attention. Fidgeting uncomfortably, she waited for someone else to speak.

That someone was _quite_ unexpected.

"Malfoy, ehh?" The voice said, startling the First Years out of their limited wits. They spun around and found a ghost sitting on top of the fireplace ledge, staring down at them. "All the Malfoy's together don't have a brain to share amongst themselves." The ghost said with such disgust in his voice, it was very evident he did not favor the Malfoy house.

"WH-who are you?" A scared little first year girl name Roger (yes, Roger)timidly asked. The ghost, taken aback, was speechless for a few moments.

"Didn't I introduce myself at the Beginning of the Year Feast?" he asked, very surprised. He was received with shakes of the head and a few puzzled faces. "Well," the ghost said, puffing himself up a bit as rehearsed his title through his head. "I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower ! I must be losing my mind in my undead life to have forgotten to introduce myself before now! I am pleased to meet all of your acquaint-"

"-Wait! I know who you are!" said an excited Ginny. "You're Nearly Headless Nick! My brothers told me about you!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-" the ghost began stiffly, but mousy haired Colin Creevey interrupted.

"_Nearly _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?

The ghost, rather miffed, muttered, "Darn authors can't even come up with there own material and have to copy some of the stupidest lines in the friggen books...If I have to do this one more time..."

"What was that?" asked Colin, a glazed look in his precious First-Year-eyes..

An irritable ghost shouted, "LIKE this my DEAR, dear children!" and off came his head. Or rather, seven-eights of the head. A small flap of skin and a few veins were still connected.

The First Year's mouths formed into little 'O's.

Popping his head back into its full, upright position, the ghost slowly drifted down off the ledge and stopped when he had reached Colin. Everyone near him took a step back. He might have been the _Gryffindor _ghost, but he was still not human.

Wrinkling his nose at the site, Nick drew himself up and gave out a curt sniff. Continuing his rant about the Malfoys from when he first appeared, "That _Draco_ couldn't have done it, and neither could any other member of the _Malfoy_ house." Nick spat out the words Draco and Malfoy. "The entire Malfoy house is full of braggarts and half-wits. The men are pompous jerks and the women -snivelling little rats."

He was obviously disgusted about something. But he was also scaring the rest of the First Years and Colin couldn't have his group running off. It was up to them to salvage Harry Potters' name. It's what Harry Potter would have done if there had been a Harry Potter in the same situation..

"Then who did it?" the boy asked hurriedly, half wanting to know the answer, the other half wanting Sir Nick to get off the topic of the Malfoys. Ghosts, unless exorcised, do have a tendency to live forever, and this ghost had an eternity to ponder over his enemy, while the children had an early lesson in Potions with Professer Snape tomorrow morning.

"Well," began the ghost. "The _only _person who I could think of, who was powerful enough to Petrify Mrs. Norris, is actually someone who _should be_ long dead. Someone who I went to school with."

"_You _went to school?" asked a shocked First Year.

Nearly Headless snorted. "Well of course I did! Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry class of 1472. I remember those days... marvellous!" The ghost said with a far-off look in his transparent eyes.

"Artor Ludwig, Jon Dextor, and I would terrify the professors with our pranks... Quidditch... the Winter Holidays... the Yule Ball... Muggle Autonomy, which was banned a few years after I graduated, but splendid! These were fearless times, ones without the threat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The-Boy-Who-Lived so we were rather carefree-"Nearly Headless stopped. A loud gasp had erupted from the First Years.

"No Harry Potter?!" A boy yelped loudly, which brought on a few 'shushing' noises from the others.

"Yes..." Nearly Headless said slowly, quite puzzled. "Harry Potter hadn't been born..."

"But then who fought the evil forces?" questioned Lisa, the blond First Year. The others briskly nodded in agreement. Who _did _fight evil before Harry Potter was around? It was a question none of them had dared pondered before that night.

Nick rolled his soulless eyes as he saw what the naive First Years were talking about. "Headmaster Erebus for one, and all of his precedents up to Headmaster Dumbledore, and there are the men and women of the Aurors -can't forget about them, now can we because they aren't lax to remind you."

"But it doesn't make sense," Ginny said timidly, her lower lip wavering a bit. "He's Harry Potter. I thought he'd been around for ages, like wands and broomsticks and Exploding Snap." A chorus of agreements followed her thought.

Colin Creevy wasn't a boy to be easily fooled. "Nearly Headless-" at a frown from his house's ghost, he corrected himself, "Sir Nicholas de Mitsy-"

"Mimsy."

"Mimsy-Porpington, I think you're running one over on us. You think that just because we're First Years, we're dumb. But it's not true. Look at what Harry Potter did in his First Year." At the sound of their idol's name, the First Years swooned. "Everybody is always going on and on about the 'stupid wittle firsties' and how we don't even know the business end of our own wands.They mock us and they put stuff in our food and they hide our extra robes."

Smitty, a brown-haired boy from Scotland, solemnly nodded, "Sexual harassment, that is."

"Naw, it's just Harassment. But either way,I've had it with all of that nonsense. If we all band together, we can stop the prejudice. We're here, we're first years, get use to it! Come'on, mates!"

The assembled group suddenly stood up, some of them crying in awe of their fearless leaders' speech. They raised their fists in the air and took up the chant, "We're here, we're first years, get use to it!"

"And slaughter the Slytherins!" the girl named Roger cried out in fervour. She was still caught up in that afternoon's Quidditch Match. "Rip their bloody heads off!"

"No, no." Colin said, trying to settle his fan group down. "We must _all _join together, all four houses. If we don't it won't work. We need everybody to rise up against this tyranny andset free the shackles of oppression. We need to purge the halls of Hogwarts from this foul subjugation until all first yearscan join hands togetherin the Great Hall and say,'Free at last, free at last, glory Hallelujah, free at last!'But hey, if you want togo after those slimy snakeswhen nobody's looking, make sure you aim for behind the knee."

"So have you got a plan, Colin?" Ginny asked, trembling in delight. She hated it when her brothers called her a 'firsty', as if it was somehow degrading. They had been First Years too, once.

A tight smile was on his thin lips, "Of course, Ginny," Colin said, and left it at that.

"Rip their bloody heads off!" Roger yelled again, the assembled First Years took up their mantra once more, 'We're here, we're First Years, get use to it!'.

Floating up a foot in the air above the chanting "firsties", Nearly Headless realized what he had just unleashed on an unsuspecting Hogwarts. "Oh dear... Dumbledore is not going to like this."

(tbc...maybe)


End file.
